Familiarity
by Daalny
Summary: The tickling of the mind
1. Chapter 1

February, the second month of the year. For the post office the beginning of this month was almost on par with Christmas. Many flocked here to send the cards they had painstakingly picked or the letters that they had written and rewritten to their sweetheart. Most letters were on hold to be delivered on St. Valentines. For many in the village today would be a painful reminder that some sweethearts were gone forever. Dr. Clarkson was on his bicycle lines of poetry aimlessly floating through his head. His mother had told him when he was young that birds chose their mates on St. Valentine's day.

_Come cheer up your hearts and revive like the spring. Join off in pairs like the birds in February That St. Valentine's Day it forth do bring._

His heart panged a little, he moved his bicycle in a figure eight before looking up. His eyes caught sight of a figure walking through the square, it was her, head down focused on the pavement. He finished his figure eight and willed her to see him. Fate seemed to be willing to work with him for she raised her gaze from the pavement and looked at him. He dismounted and began walking his bicycle across the square to join her on the other side. It was not too early in the morning, many shops were open and patrons were milling about getting things done.

Isobel had left her home after the post had been delivered, she had received a Valentine and she knew damn well whom had sent it. She hadn't worked in the hospital for all those years not to recognize the tilt of Dr. Clarkson's left hand. She had been of two minds when she had received the Valentine, she was happy but as her face lifted into a smile she forced herself to look at Matthew's picture. She grabbed her coat suddenly needing some air, the card she slipped into her coat pocket. Here now in the village seeing him on his bicycle making patterns like an adolescent had her feeling lighter. Matthew wouldn't want her unhappy, she began walking to the man who had always seemed to be there for her.

Both of them were transfixed on one another as they moved towards each other. Dr. Clarkson would need to cross the square so would Isobel. His height allowed his legs to cover more ground. Since both were preoccupied with one another they didn't see the group of boys. Four young lads were racing in a pack on bicycles turned a corner shouting nonsense to each other as they did so. They were not paying attention either, a shopkeeper cried out a warning but there was by the time the boys applied the brakes it would be too late. While the first rider managed to dodge the doctor the second rider ploughed into the first and both flew from their mounts and slammed into the doctor.

Isobel watched as Richard fell onto his back, his head slamming into the pavement. She was already moving as was the butcher from across the street shouting, "Doctor, doctor!"

The butcher pulled off the boys while Isobel knelt beside Richard he was unconscious. She pulled at his bowtie and opened his collar to allow his airway more room to work. Others were now coming over to see what they could do to help. Isobel's nursing took over and she gave orders. Two men went to hospital and fetched a stretcher, a left over canvass relic from the war. Richard was then rolled onto his side before the stretcher was placed underneath him and he was carried into the hospital. Richard was deposited on a bed and Isobel along with the head nurse began assessing him. His pupils were slow to react to light, a sure sign he was concussed. He slipped in and out of consciousness talking briefly before falling silent. Isobel never left his side, the head nurse gave her cups of tea. It was on her second cup that Richard began to rouse. Isobel notified the head nurse who went to find the intern.

It was an odd thing to watch, the muscles in his face tensed for the briefest moment. After that his breathing changed from the steady in and out to shorter inhales and exhales. Finally his head rolled to the side before he groaned before opening his eyes. With him awake junior Doctor Samuel Tanner began his own assessment. He agreed with Isobel's earlier conclusion that he had suffered a concussion.

Tanner began with a simple question, "Do you know where you are?"

Richard looked around he noted the hospital beds and the fact the man before had a stethoscope and white coat, "A hospital, you're a doctor."

"Can you tell me its name?" Tanner asked as he discretely took Richard's pulse.

Isobel's stomach dropped when she saw his face contort into puzzlement.

"Do you know what year this is?" Tanner asked gently not wanting him to get too upset.

Once again Richard's face showed confusion and he was becoming agitated. She could see him fidget beneath the blanket. Dr. Tanner could also see that his patient was becoming more and more upset which was not what he wanted. Still be a junior doctor and not having all the experience in a panic he asked pointing to Isobel, "Do you know who that is?"

Richard's head turned to Isobel and he felt a rush of familiarity and he smiled at her. As she smiled back this feeling was intensified. He knew this woman, he could trust her and more than that he felt flood of affection for her. He looked down at his hand and saw how perfectly hers fit into his, as she stroked the top of his hand with her thumb he caught sight of a wedding band.

Richard knew who she was, "Of course I know who this is, she's my wife."


	2. Chapter 2

Isobel's grip never wavered, and she smiled at Richard. She could see that he was agitated and didn't want to risk him injuring himself in a fit. If his brain remembered her in some way then she was going to work with that. It was obvious that he had sustained trauma and his recovery would need to be slow going as not to overwhelm him. Slowly gripping his hand she brought his attention to her again. "Let me go talk with the doctor" she said sweetly.

"You'll be back?" He asked his tone was laced with apprehension as if he feared that she wouldn't.

She noticed his voice had almost dropped an octave. It was seductive, and she found she liked it. "Of course" she soothed before she rose from the chair and moved behind the screens out of earshot of Richard.

"Mrs. Crawley!" Tanner hissed, "He has to be told!"

"He will be told, by me, when he is calm. Did you see him? He looked like he was about to punch you in the nose with all your questions." Isobel hissed back.

Tanner's shoulders dropped, "Physically he's fine, gash on the head wasn't too deep. He'll have some bruising from where he fell and from the impact of the bicycles…headaches most likely. It's this mental component that has me concerned."

"Will you release him to me? I can look after him, I am a nurse you know." She added for emphasis.

"Yes, I know! It is because of that I will. A few more hours for observation and then he can go with you." Tanner stated.

"Thank you." Isobel said sincerely.

Isobel then returned to the chair by Richard's bedside and he seemed relieved to see her.

"You'll be discharged in a few hours and then you'll be coming home with me." She announced.

"I would like that very much." he delivered in the same tone that made Isobel feel warm inside.

She turned to him, "What's my name?" She asked softly.

She was struck by his gaze, his face had softened not the hard stern look of a doctor. Instead it was the face of a man, his blue eyes were piercing and were not diminished by the bandage on his forehead. As Richard looked at her thoughts were clamoring for his attention. All of them were mixed up into a jumble, one more than the others made itself known.

"Isobel" he whispered and his face broke into a wide grin knowing that he was right.

"Yes, Richard. It's me Isobel." She said with joy. Her emotions were close to the surface and she felt herself blinking back tears. Richard saw this and became concerned.

His hand went to cup her cheek, "What's the matter? Are you all right?"

Isobel nodded and sniffed, "Yes, I'm fine now. Oh, Richard you scared me. When you fell… I thought-"

His fingers stopped her words by resting lightly against her lips, "I'm sorry that I frightened you, I'm sorry that I can't remember. Everything else feels muddled, I'm not sure about certain things. However, I do know you. I can feel it."

"How does this place make you feel?" She asked using her free hand to wave at the walls of the hospital.

Richard pondered this and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and willed his body to relax. He let his senses takeover, the smell of antiseptic was somewhat comforting as was the chatter of nurses. He felt safe here, more than that he felt needed. A memory struck him.

_Isobel was beside him in a Navy dress coupled with a white nurses apron, her nursing watch securely attached to the right front side. He was beside her in an Army uniform and white coat, together they lifted a patient onto a cot._

"I'm a doctor." he delivered confidently and opened his eyes to see Isobel once again smiling at him in praise.

"Yes, you are. Now, I want you to rest while I get things ready. I will be back for you."

It was then Richard realized how tired he actually was, he leaned back into the pillows. Isobel waited for him to fall asleep before she moved. She waved to Dr. tanner before she left. At Crawley house she packed some items in a bag. If Richard were to regain his memories it would be vital that he be surrounded by familiar things. She would stay with him in his cottage where hopefully his personal objects would help jump start his memory.

As she walked back to the hospital she mulled over in her mind how to bring up the fact that they were not married. She didn't want him upset, trying to force memories could be disastrous. Like trying to run after breaking your leg, you had to heal fully before easing back into a quick pace. She would wait for the right time to tell him. Besides, with all the time that they had spent together it was quite natural for Richard to think of her as his consort. This could be his mind's way of healing. While Richard had fallen asleep she had taken his key to his cottage. Quietly she let herself inside and looked around. She had never been inside before. Pushing the feelings of intrusion aside she endeavored to memorize what she could. Examining books, learning the names of the artists that had created the beautiful paintings. When she came to the entrance of his bedroom she stalled. Gathering her courage she stepped inside.

His bedroom was neat and orderly, much like the rest of his home. His bed was bracketed by two bedside tables yet only one had items on it.

_This must be the side he sleeps on._

She felt a pang of anguish when she saw an empty tumbler next to a medical journal. She didn't need to sniff the glass to know it had contained whiskey. She moved to the other side and placed her handbag on the other bedside table. Her bag went on the bed and she carefully opened it removing a few clothes before placing them alongside his in the tall wardrobe in the corner. She noted that he still had his Army uniforms in the wardrobe albeit in the back. She remembered boxing up Matthew's after he had died. She had removed the Captain's isignia and kept it beside her brooches in her jewelry box. Her fingers touched his medals, some she recognize and others she didn't. One from the Boer War and the others she knew were earned in Great War she remembered standing next to him the Abbey's great hall when the war was officially over. They had been through so much. Swallowing she closed the wardrobe and turned away. In the bathroom she placed her toiletries alongside his. It had been a long time since her things had mixed with that of another man.

She should be heading back to the hospital. When she arrived she found that Richard had dressed in his clothes. His overcoat had been taken to the tailor by Mr. Flood the butcher since it had been dirtied and damaged by the collision. He was standing in his office seemingly bewildered.

She called to him and he turned. "What's the matter?"

He pointed with his left hand towards the wall where his diploma hung, "I can't believe it, I'm a doctor...official."

Isobel decided to test the waters, "You're a Major as well, you served in the Army."

He nodded, "I have a memory of you and I in it I was wearing a uniform. I just can't seem to get over the fact that I'm a doctor."

Another idea struck Isobel, she went to his desk where his bag was resting and retrieved his own sphygmomanometer and stethoscope. She sat in his chair and rolled up the sleeve on her blouse, "Take my blood pressure."

Richard was about to argue but didn't instead he took the items from her hand and knelt beside her. Somehow he didn't need to think about this, his hands seemed to work automatically. The cuff was applied to her arm and he slowly inflated it. The bell of the stethoscope was placed just under the cuff and he listened. "One-ten over seventy two, perfect." He stated and felt a rush of confidence.

Isobel merely shot him a look that spoke _See, don't doubt yourself._

With that Richard placed the items back into his bag while he did so his mind automatically labeled the contents.

"Are you ready to go home?" Isobel asked.

His gaze was once again piercing and Isobel felt herself flush warm.

"Yes, I'm ready." He spoke as he extended his hand and she took it willingly.


	3. Chapter 3

Richard was finding this whole situation strange. Seeing his diplomas and other various commendations on the wall simply drove home the point that he didn't know much about himself. He glanced at the papers on what he assumed was his desk. On a whim he had grabbed a pen and signed his name. It looked like the signature on all the other pieces of paper on his desk. He read through them yet it felt as if he were reading someone else's notes yet he knew they were his. It was all disorienting.

The only constant was Isobel, he felt continuity with her. The feeling of rightness when she was near him stilled the restlessness he felt. When she took his hand in the office and led him out he felt at peace, he felt right.

Isobel slowed as she neared the cottage and Richard was surprised, he thought his was on the end. She opened the door and ushered him through, he saw a row of hooks near the door and hung up his coat and jacket. While the hospital had given him some feeling this dwelling that supposed to be his gave him none. He felt himself start to sweat and his breathing hitched. Instantly she was at his side.

"I can't" he shook his head, "I don't" he tried to collect his thoughts.

Isobel laid her hand on his chest she could feel his rising panic. He needed calm down, she remembered an exercise she had used with patients in France. Placing her hand on his solar plexus she commanded, "Move my hand away slowly with your breath."

He sucked in breath rapidly and her hand rose sharply. She simply returned it to it's original position and commanded, "Slowly."

Fists clenched by his sides he closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath, to focus on slowly using his own body to move her hand. It seemed like an eternity but eventually his breathing slowed to a somewhat normal rate. Isobel then placed her hand against his abdomen letting him gain comfort from her touch. He blew out a shaky breath, "being here...I don't know that it's real, I don't know that it's safe."

She could see the raw emotion on his face, his memory loss wasn't just a nuisance, this was an ordeal. "I'm here." She told him authoritatively.

After his brief breakdown his cheeks burned with embarrassment. She let him scurry away to save his pride while she went to the kitchen. While she quietly filled a kettle to make tea he examined his home. Nothing seemed to leap out at him, he also noted that there were no photos of the two of them. In fact he didn't see any photographs, perhaps they were all in an album? These thoughts were swept aside with the arrival of tea. He held his mug and allowed the warm ceramic and steaming contents to lull him into relaxation. He wasn't in the mood to talk and Isobel had gleaned this and stayed silent also. The sun had set the light was rapidly fading. Reaching over Isobel switched on a lamp, letting the light fill the room. Finally she spoke, "you will remember Richard, you will. With the blow you took today it will just take sometime for everything to slot back into place."

"And if it doesn't?" he gave voice to his fear.

"It will" She chided softly and he merely stared at her. "It will" she repeated, "And if it doesn't happen I'll be here."

With that no more talk of memories was uttered. Instead Isobel returned to the kitchen to find them something to eat. As they ate Isobel noticed that Richard was picking at his food, "not hungry?"

"Doesn't taste right." He mumbled.

Isobel remembered her own nursing rotation. Apparently a bang on the head could wreak havoc with the olfactory nerve affecting smell and with it the sense of taste. It was just another reminder of how dangerous this morning had actually been. Richard was now cradling his forehead in his hand.

"Lets get you to bed." She said softly not wanting to add to his discomfort.

Between the two of them he was put into pajamas and she bundled him on his side of the bed. She disappeared into the bathroom to change into her own nightgown. Richard was too disoriented to notice her absence. When she returned she found him already asleep which she found a relief. She still didn't know how to broach the subject of their "marriage". As she climbed into bed she allowed her thoughts to return to the beginning of the day, of when she opened the Valentine Richard had sent her. It had been a perfectly innocent card to which she thought had been sent in friendship. Now she knew better, in retrospect she had been in denial. Richard Clarkson loved her and if she were truly honest with herself she was in love with him. Closing her eyes she let his deep even breaths lull her to sleep.

_"Clarkson!" A man screamed._

_He saw a sergeant on his knees, a rifle being shoved into his back. A sharp nudge to his back had him falling to his knees as well, his medical bag swinging with the force as he fell. It was war, it was also incredibly hot. One of the men leveling a weapon had a wound, blood was seeping through his uniform._

_Finding his voice he spoke, "IK ben zelf arts"_

_"Dokter?" The man asked._

_Richard merely nodded his head and slowly opened his bag showing the men bandages and various medical equipment. The weapons were lowered and the wounded man began rolling up his sleeve. Another grabbed Richard forcing him to stand and he began patching up the wound. The soldiers then prodded Richard's colleague, "Dokter?" they asked. The man shook his head in the negative and with that they raised their weapons and shot him._

_Richard closed his eyes, certain that a bullet would greet him next._

_"Ga weg!" One of them shouted as he pointed back towards the British camp. Richard knew a command to leave when he heard one and slowly turned. He didn't run for fear of being shot for sport. Slowly and methodically he moved away from the group of dutch speaking soldiers._

Richard woke, sweating and scared into the arms of Isobel. His pajamas clung to him and he felt sick.

Isobel was chanting his name, "Richard, Richard, Richard."

His hands clamped around her forearm and Isobel hid her flinch, his grip was tight. She repeated his name and slowly his grip relaxed. "I'm here, I'm real." She said.

This seemed to break him and his head lowered and he emitted a brief sob. His breath hitch before he mumbled something Isobel couldn't hear.

"Dream?" She asked.

"Dream, nightmare…memory." He rasped.

"Do you want to tell me?"

Richard swallowed, "I was in South Africa. Myself and a sergeant were sent out. We were cornered by the Dutch. I treated a wounded enemy, they let me go but not before shooting the sergeant I was with...it felt real."

Isobel remembered the medal on Richard's dress uniform from the Boer War. "You served in the Boer War so yes, it was probably a memory. While it isn't a pleasant one it does show that you still have all your memories."

"Especially the bad ones" he muttered.

Isobel's heart broke at this and before she could stop herself she leaned forward to press her lips to his.


	4. Chapter 4

This kiss was chaste and Richard pulled away first. "I need to wash" he murmured as he pulled his pajamas away from his body to further illustrate the point. Isobel let him go while she understood his need to get cleaned up she couldn't help but feel a little cheated that the kiss had ended so abruptly.

_Get a grip woman, he just a night terror and you're worried about the length of a kiss?_

She channeled her emotions into action and stripped the bed before finding more sheets in the linen cupboard. The bed was soon encased in fresh linens. From across the hall Isobel could hear the bath filling with water.

As the tub filled Richard peeled off his pajamas. Above the sink was a rectangular mirror and he caught sight of himself. His back was covered with purple bruises, most likely from when he fell from the collision. He considered the bruises a birthmark for he was essentially born this morning. What Richard was looking for was other marks, what other landmarks were marked on his body. Where was his map to tell him who he was?

He looked down and saw a silver hairbrush, it was very ornate and obviously not his. As he picked it up he turned it over to see the back. A large C had been engraved in into the silver, this was Isobel's brush. Had he given it to her? What shop was it bought at? Was it an heirloom from his family? As he turned the brush over in his hands the light reflected off of the edge it almost looked like a weapon. He then nearly dropped it. Steadying himself he put it back on the counter next to her other things.

The bath was filled and he climbed into it. Richard washed off the sweat and he tried to shake off the terror he felt at the dream/memory. He thought about the fact that he couldn't remember. What bothered him was perhaps there were somethings that he shouldn't be remembering. What embarrassment and horror and been purposefully locked away? Also what was memory and what was dream? He felt safe now, he knew this bath was real. He mentally thanked Isobel for being here, he then snorted, she was his wife where else would she be?

His tongue darted out to taste where Isobel's lips had touched his. The kiss had felt right yet he had been stunned by his dream to enjoy it. As he pulled the stopper from the bath he snagged a towel and dried himself off. It was then that he realized that he had forgotten another pair of pajamas.

"Damn!" He swore.

Isobel was taking the sweat-soaked bedding away when she heard Richard curse. She addressed him through the door, "Everything all right?"

"I forgot my pajamas." He lamented back through the door.

Isobel smiled at this, "Hold still I'll get you some."

She found a spare set and rapped her knuckles against the door. Comically an arm shot out and the fingers made a grabbing motion. Isobel laughed as she placed the cotton fabric into the grasping hand. Her laughter was infectious and Richard smiled as he put on the clean pajamas. As he exited the bathroom and saw the bed with fresh linens he emitted a sigh Isobel seemed to glide towards him. In all of this mess she was the constant and that was a huge relief. Mimicking her earlier move he leaned in and kissed her. Once again it was chaste just lips meeting. Isobel could smell the clean scent of Richard, his soap, his skin and it flooded her senses. Her baser instincts kicked in and she found herself moaning into the kiss. Richard felt himself responding as well, slowly the steady feeling of familiar began to settle around him and he pulled away so he could look at her.

"This feels so right." He murmured as his hand rested on her neck. His fingers could feel her pulse and it gave him comfort.

"Yes" Isobel answered truthfully, her mind screamed at her to tell him now before he kissed her again. She didn't get a chance for his eyes screwed shut and he huffed out a breath.

"Come on you need more sleep." She led him back to bed and they got settled.

They slept, once more his dreams delved into memories. He remembered the Boer War and the Great War, he remembered more and more of his years as a doctor. Nearing the end of the dream he remembered some other grisly memories. He woke and for a moment didn't know where he was. A slender arm was then slung over his waist as a warm body cuddled up behind him. Isobel, his mind sighed and the ugliness of the dream vanished with her touch. He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Come the morning Richard had removed his uniforms from the back of the wardrobe. After Isobel had made the bed the had laid them out carefully. She stood in the doorway as his fingers trailed over medal and ribbons. She wondered if he had the same feelings that she did when she did this yesterday. Did he know what he had received each medal for? What Isobel didn't know was that Richard did know. He knew which one was his meritorious service medal, territorial medal and star. What Richard was trying to summon was the name of the sergeant who had been shot before him in Africa.

For breakfast Isobel made tea and toast, Richard found that while he could smell a hint of butter the toast tasted odd. It was a far better than yesterday when food tasted incredibly bland. He told Isobel this along with his recollections of his career and she seemed to brighten. As he chewed it struck him that he had had no further insights on Isobel. He couldn't remember what her favorite food was, did she prefer her tea black or white? He knew it wasn't wise but he forced himself to think.

_He was standing next to a fireplace in a grand setting. The heat from the fire wasn't as searing as the stares he was getting. He told those surrounding him of his mistake in his diagnosis of a man named Matthew. Isobel wept tears when he finished, "My boy, my darling darling boy." She then leaned over to kiss him._

Isobel could see that Richard was miles away, his eyes were fixed and he was breathing heavily. "Matthew" he whispered.

Isobel dropped her own toast onto her plate. Suddenly this topic of being his wife seemed like a better topic than the one he was currently remembering. She waited patiently before his eyes focused on her and repeated, "Matthew, I remember a young man named Matthew. Is he our son?"

Isobel steeled her nerves, "No, Matthew is my son. He is my son from my first marriage."

Richard felt cold, he wished he could remember. Perhaps this Matthew could help? "Can I speak with Matthew?" Richard noted that as he had spoken the color had drained from Isobel.

Isobel felt as though she had been slapped but knew it wasn't Richard's fault. "No, you can't speak with him. He was killed six months ago."

If he hadn't felt terrible before he felt like a colossal bastard now. He pushed back in his chair and the sudden movement made Isobel gasp in surprise. "I need some air." He said rapidly and moved to door.

"I'll come with you." Isobel said hurriedly as she threw her napkin down onto the small table.

"No, I've caused you enough pain. I need to go." He said and quickly left through the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Richard's long legs were moving fast and he turned the corner quickly. He had no clue as to where he was going he just walked. What the hell had happened? He went over what he knew, he was a doctor, he had survived two wars, he had misdiagnosed a man who was his wife's son. That son was dead and he had just brought it up. The look on Isobel's face was still fresh in his mind and he was tormented by it. He might as well killed her son again by the haunted look she wore.

He found himself in the square, the place of the accident, the place of his birth. On his right was the church and graveyard. He walked towards it, some of the gravemarkers were crumbling stone, while others were just wooden crosses marking the plot of a buried body. In the middle the more ornate and expensive graves were kept. A newer gravestone caught his attention

**Matthew Reginald Crawley**

Richard did the math in his head, this was the Matthew that belonged to Isobel. Wanting a connection his hand brushed against the stone. He wasn't sure what he would feel, the cold stone didn't grant him with any more memories. He felt useless, he felt stuck. He heard footsteps behind him and he turned expecting to see Isobel. Instead he saw a middle aged man wearing a bloodstained apron. His eyes darted to the shops in the street and he saw a butchers, above the door was a name. He hoped he was right, "Hello Mr. Flood"

The man smiled in greeting, "Hello Doctor, I must say it is good to see you up and about.

Richard returned the smile glad his instincts had held up. Mr. Flood shook his head, "those lads that smacked into you. I have them working for me for a week to make sure they get it through their heads to watch where they were going."

"What are you having them do?" Richard's mind was suddenly filled with the horror stories of butcher shops.

"Putting those mad skills to work, having them deliver meats for me in the village." Mr. Flood answered.

Richard laughed, at least some good came out of the yesterday's fiasco. He ran a hand through his hair he could feel a headache coming but he didn't want to return to the cottage. "Best be on my way." he said and the two men parted company. His head began to pound and the church seemed inviting. He found the door open and strode inside. Stopping at the first pew he deposited his weary body into the seat and waited.

Isobel was flustered something that only the Dowager Countess seemed to bring out in her. Richard had told her not to follow but she had to find him. She found herself in the square and she knew the graveyard was beside her.

She thought of Matthew and silently asked, _Help me find him._

Whether it was Matthew's intervention or just blind luck she entered the church and saw him. At first she thought he was praying, his head was bowed over the back of the pew in front of him. However, no one would pray with white knuckled fists and a grimace. Then again he might be praying for the pain to stop. She sat beside him and began rubbing her hands in small circles across his back. Eventually the tension began to ease from him and he looked up to see her.

Isobel sucked in a quick breath, his face was etched with pain and his eyes were pleading with her for something.

Hoping that it wasn't a sin she leaned her head forward and pressed her lips to his, much like she did after his night terror. She then whispered, "I'm here, this is real, you're safe."

They sat together in the church, letting the silence soothe them. Isobel's hands continued to rub circles on his back the steady motion seemed to make the clanging in his head recede. When his stomach rumbled both giggled. It was time to go, as he stood she pulled on his hand. "It wasn't your fault. None of it. Your misdiagnosis was an act of love for Matthew and I. We never blamed you and you weren't responsible for his death either. Don't ever think that you were."

Richard caressed her the top of her hand with his thumb, "How did he die?"

"Car accident, you told me it was instant and you have never lied to me." Isobel found that when she spoke these words she didn't feel the overwhelming tidal wave of grief. Perhaps Matthew was giving her another message?

Before they went back to the cottage Isobel made Richard stop at the hospital so Dr. Tanner could reassess him. Richard told the junior doctor how his taste was returning, his headaches were spacing out and that he remembered a great deal more of his life. As he went to put on his coat Dr. Tanner shot a look to Isobel that spoke Have you told him?

She simply shook her head in the negative. Tanner sighed but since Dr. Clarkson was showing so much progress he would defer to Nurse Crawley.

In the cottage Isobel was preparing another meal while once again Richard was rummaging around in his wardrobe. Apparently he was a cricketer, he had an array of whites. His hands stroked the material and he closed his eyes.

_He could smell the scent of a freshly mown lawn, the sun was warm on his back. He was in the company of many men all playing together. There was a tent to his right and in it was Isobel sitting in a chair watching the match._

Isobel announced the meal was ready but got no response. Fearing that Richard might be in the throes of another headache she went to find him. Her dread quickly evaporated, it was clear that he was remembering something but it didn't seem to be a haunting memory. He seemed content with whatever his mind was replaying for him. In his hands he held what looked like a pajama top, upon closer inspection she saw it was part of cricket uniform.

"I remember." He said quietly.

"What do you remember?" She asked mimicking his tone.

"The match, you were there looking splendid. Matthew was there too. It was a good day." He said with wonder.

"Yes it was" she affirmed.

The smile quickly dropped from Richard's face and Isobel was concerned. "Are you all right?"

"I'm glad, don't misunderstand me, I'm starting to feel whole. Yet I can't seem to remember us. I know we should be together. I feel it when you are with me, especially when you kiss me. Nonetheless, where did we marry? Was it in the church we sat in today? I'm embarrassed to say I can't remember when we first made love, I think I should remember that." He ended his sentence with a laugh.

Isobel was not laughing, she was going to have to tell him. But how? She made a decision to tell him once he regained all his memories.

That night as they slept side by side, she soothed him from his dreams. Murmuring quietly to him that he was safe.

Come morning the stores in the cottage were low. Isobel said she would go out to get provisions. Richard decided to stay behind, letting the cottage speak to him. He promised that he would stay out of the kitchen so he wouldn't set himself on fire or cut himself with a knife if a memory struck him. She wouldn't be gone long so he milled around what passed for his library. Medical journals seemed to be on every shelf. As he passed another shelf he pulled a book and in doing so one got knocked to the floor. As he bent down to pick it up he saw that it was a collection of Rudyard Kipling's works. His eyes fell to the bottom of the page

_**Din! Din! Din!**_

_**You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!**_

_**Tho' I've belted you an' flayed you,**_

_**By the livin' Gawd that made you,**_

_**You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!**_

The last line seemed to have struck a chord with Richard. It was then that he remembered _everything_. Thirsk, the fair! His poor attempt to have her as his wife. Isobel was not his wife. He had never made love to her ever! The C on her hairbrush was for Crawley not Clarkson. Walking into the bedroom he found her large bag and went to the wardrobe and began carefully removing her things.

When Isobel entered the cottage again she could feel a difference in the atmosphere. She called for Richard, panic began to rise and she found him in the bedroom. She recognized her hairbrush in his hand as he placed it into her travel bag.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

He turned to her, his blue eyes held pain and hurt. His voice had returned to it's normal timbre no longer in the lower octave she had come to associate with him, "You can go home now, I remember everything, it wasn't real. We're not married, the book of Kipling triggered it all. I know exactly who I am."

Isobel swallowed at his words, he slowly zipped up her bag before holding it out in offering to her whispering, "Go, you're free."


	6. Chapter 6

As she approached him he held out her bag, as if using it to shield himself. She took the bag from him, she shifted the bag from her left hand to her right before placing it at her feet. Crossing the remaining distance between them she held his face in her palms and dragged him down for a kiss.

He didn't resist, he considered it a goodbye kiss. As her lips touched his he still felt the sense of rightness settle around him. As she pulled away he prepared for her to leave. Not wanting to see her go he shut his eyes.

He felt her fingertips against his cheek and his eyes opened. Her brown eyes were filled with what Richard could only describe as passion. He was now thoroughly confused.

He didn't understand, "I don't-" he began and Isobel touched his cheek again.

"You're safe, this is real." she waited a heartbeat before saying, "I love you, Richard."

She could see him processing what she said and behind his eyes a flicker of doubt. She was still wearing her coat and she thrust her hand into a pocket and withdrew the Valentine he had sent her. "I know you love me and I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm not lying now, I love you. And I wasn't lying when when I agreed with you that our kisses feel right." He smiled and she was glad to see that it actually reached his eyes, the skin around those blue orbs crinkling in happiness.

She kissed him quick before delivering, "Today"

Richard shook his head minutely, "Today?" he echoed.

Isobel leveled her gaze at him so he would focus on her, "You said yesterday you didn't remember the first time we made love the answer is today."

She could see his desire but it was tempered with hesitation and she knew that she was responsible for both emotions. She had rejected him once at Thirsk and while her lie had been to protect him it was still a lie. Richard had given her so much, an occupation, companionship and most of all his love. She had taken that and given little in return it was time she rectified that. Her hands ran over his back in small circles, in the motion he liked best. She had to remember not to push too hard as to aggravate the bruises. She told him she loved him and it was so liberating. "I love you" she told him again.

This confirmation of love broke Richard and his voice had dropped into its lower octave, "I love you too. I have for so long, you have no idea." He rasped into her neck and shoulder.

At this she smiled, "You called me your wife and you meant it, I have some inkling of how much you love me."

He sobered at her words and he clasped her hands in his making sure he had her attention, "Did that bother you? Did I embarrass you with that?"

She returned his gaze, "No, I rather enjoyed being your wife. Even told Doctor Tanner to keep his mouth shut on the subject."

Richard emitted a laugh and Isobel's heart leapt as she heard the sound bounce off of the walls. It was delightful to see him unreserved, unhindered by his job or by social conformities. Again she was dumbfounded by the love she felt for him as if she only now knew how encompassing it was.

He moved closer to her and kissed her, she could feel the obvious evidence of his want of her yet he wasn't making any move to alleviate it. She pulled him closer to her aligning her body with his. He moaned into her mouth for he could feel the heat she was producing. Isobel too, moaned for he was hard against her.

Her hands tugged at his clothes and and he let her strip him. He felt a tad odd standing in his bedroom without a stitch on while the woman he loved was fully clothed. She merely nodded at him, giving him a signal that it was all right for him to do the same. He took a deep breath to steady himself as he pushed off her jacket, her dress then pooled over it. As he removed the last pieces of her clothing her eyes roamed over his form. His arms and shoulders were solid, he had a livid bruise just above his right hip from where the bicycle had hit him. Her hand lightly brushed over it, a reminder that she had nearly lost him.

"Oh, Isobel" he breathed as she was revealed. Time had been kind to her body and he couldn't wait to feel her skin against his. As if reading his thoughts she moved forward to embrace him and skin met skin and he keened softly. All the memories he had of Isobel coalesced together, he was wearing Black tie and she was in a light brown gown while they assembled hospital beds. John Drake has having adrenaline administered at Downton Abbey. All the moments they had shared were blurring causing disorientation. He pulled her to him more forcefully and shut his eyes trying to focus on the present.

Isobel could feel through his touch that something was wrong. Running a hand through his hair she told him a loving voice, "this is real, this is safe."

She then placed her hand on his solar plexus and guided him through the same exercise she had used before. It was calming and also erotic, she could feel his heartbeat slow almost matching hers. Also they were breathing in time, inhaling and exhaling together. When he finally opened his eyes he was greeted by the chocolate warmth of hers.

Their mouths crashed together again, tongues greeting one another. Hands wandered over the terrain of shoulders and hips. Richard maneuvered Isobel to the bed and had her sit on it. He stood between her legs so he could look at her. At first his gaze didn't bother her but the longer he looked the more Isobel wanted to look away for the intensity shook her.

His thumbs brushed her cheeks, "I love you so much." he told her in that lovely seductive tone.

Her eyes stung with unshed tears and one found it's way onto her face which Richard brushed away with his thumb, "And I love you."

His mouth twitched in a grin before he bent down to kiss her. Gracefully moving backward Isobel became supine on the bed and Richard scrambled after her. The arms she had admired cradled her and she craned her neck so she could kiss him. His weight settled over her and she welcomed it, "Oh" was all she could manage to say. He pushed forward and felt the heat of her envelope him.

"My wife." Richard rasped.

"Yes!" Isobel confirmed, "I'm your wife."

Her declaration cleared his head and he captured her lips again. His tongue darted against hers matching the rhythm of his hips. Her hands clung to his shoulders, some part of her brain remembering that he still had bruising. Isobel could feel her body singing with endorphins and surrendered to Richard's motions. She would gladly go where he was taking her. Her calves stroked up and down his thighs urging him on. He obeyed without protest and moved at her yearning. The steady rhythm was giving way to push and pull both trying to alleviate the raw ache in the other. She broke first her legs tightening impossibly tight, the added friction of her legs seemed to ignite Richard and he now had another memory of himself and Isobel to cherish-the day they first made love.

* * *

**A/N: :)**


	7. Chapter 7

Richard was breathing hard as was Isobel, "This is real." he managed to say his voice while shaky was still in the lower octave that Isobel had come to cherish.

Her hands stroked his face, "Yes, this is real. I'm here, you're safe." She repeated the litany again in a lower tone letting him draw comfort from it.

He lowered his face to nuzzle against her slowly breathing in her scent. He gathered her up and rolled onto his side taking her with him. He couldn't resist touching her now that he could, his fingertips glided down her arm to twine with her own fingers. Leaning forward he his lips pressed hotly just above the swell of her breasts. He felt compelled to touch her and she let him. She would let him do whatever he wished. A yawn threatened to rise in his chest and he coughed slightly to cover it. He didn't want to but he could feel sleep begin to tug at his heels. He still needed to rest from his concussion and Isobel got her turn to watch him. In sleep he was fully relaxed, there were no lines of worry on his face. Making sure he was deeply asleep she carefully got out of bed and secured his dark brown dressing gown around her. She went to where she had left the groceries and put them away not wanting any to spoil. When she was done she found her bag the one Richard had packed. As she opened it she found that he had folded every piece of her clothing, nothing had been stuffed hurriedly or carelessly into the bag. Showing that he still cared for her even though he had realized that she had lied to him. She went to the wardrobe and hung everything back up. In the bathroom her toiletries were once again laid beside his.

He had called her his wife the first time with no memories, the second with full command of them. If he asked her again to marry him she would say yes, even if he didn't she would stay with him. They were beyond all touch of others. There was only one item left to be put back into place-herself. She removed the dressing gown and climbed back into bed. In sleep he moved closer to her and she hummed in contentment. The large of bulk of his body was fiercely warm and it seeped into her. Her eyes were heavy and she let them close.

Richard was dreaming of making love to Isobel. He could feel her body beneath him, touching him everywhere. When he woke he found that she was in his bed. The dream was actually a memory he was relieved that his dreams were now of pleasant memories. He gazed at her sleeping form. His fingers traced over her smallpox vaccination scar and he suddenly realized it wasn't his scars he needed for a map of who he was he needed hers.

When his fingers left her arm she moaned, she was waking. As she stretched out her body her lower body made contact with his and he hissed in pleasure. The sound was enough to wake her fully, she turned to face him seeing that he was indeed awake and aroused.

"Husband" she said softly.

He found he couldn't speak this felt too much like a dream Isobel saw this and kissed his lips. "You already are in here," she said and guided his hand to her left breast so he could feel her heartbeat, "will you become my husband legally?"

His tongue had finally become unglued, "Yes"

She pushed him onto his back gently not wanting to cause him pain. On the contrary she wanted him to feel good. In awe he watched as her creamy thighs came on either side of him. Never had a woman ridden him. His limited encounters with women had never been this intimate for none of his relationships had ever been this intimate. His sexual experiences he had in his youth were hormone filled fumbles both partners just seeking release. As she settled over him Isobel could see his in his eyes a sense of wonder. She knew he wasn't a Virgin but had he never experienced this?

As she sank down on him his body reacted instantly. He swore brightly and his chest and back curled up to meet her. Never before had anyone uttered such an expletive with her while making love but she found she wasn't offended. It showed just how new and raw this was for him. There was no false moans, no shy moves, everything he did was real.

Richard had truly never known that sex could be this good. Isobel was moving above him giving him pleasure and from the noises she was making she was enjoying herself too. There was no burning of his knees to push, no strain on his back just the intense feeling of her as she moved.

"Fuck!" he swore again and he bit his lip. He shouldn't be swearing in front of a lady.

She saw the flash of white and his bit lip to silence his cries and she used her thumb to tease his lips apart. "It's all right, lets me know I'm doing it right." she huffed.

"Christ Isobel, it's right...it's perfect." He moaned before curling up again and claiming her lips. He thrust up with his hips not wanting to be idle any longer. With both of them moving the world became hazy and soft. His thrusts were met by the circling of her hips, he grunted and surrendered to her. Her victory smirk was short lived as his last drive into her rubbed against a certain spot and she was lost in the haze as well.


	8. Chapter 8

When Richard woke again he felt a strange sense of Deja Vu which quickly dissipated when he saw Isobel beside him. He settled back down into the pillow, it had been a very long time since he had had a lie in. Also this was the first time he had ever woken with a woman.

When Isobel awoke, she flashed him a smile before yanking the blanket down and then up for a quick flash. He chuckled at this, she was so playful. Isobel considered the last few hours, she had nearly lost this man to a mistake, she had made love and even proposed to him. A bride at her age! This thought was quickly followed by the fact that Richard had never been a bridegroom.

"May I ask you something?" She asked hesitantly

"Anything, you can ask me anything" he said truthfully.

Taking a deep breath to steel her nerves she rapidly uttered, "you seemed a little stunned by what we did, I'm just curious."

Richard pushed himself up so he was in a sitting position, "Before you I had been with two women, the first was when I was 17. We lost our virginity together, we were both leaving our village for our lives to start. It was once and embarrassingly quick. The second encounter I had was woman during my residency, again it was just once." He turned to her and her breath left her at the intensity of his gaze. "You are the first woman I have ever slept with. I don't want you think I used the other two, it wasn't like that but we weren't committed, we were lonely and we weren't ready to sacrifice everything for one another...sins of the flesh you could say."

Isobel was processing what Richard had told her, in his entire life he had had sex twice. In the time that they had been together that number had already doubled. She reached out to touch him not in pity but in awe for he had seemingly controlled his desires all his life.

"What about you?" He asked.

"You are the second man I've been with." She said confirming his suspicions. "And you already know I was married for years."

He nodded slowly, "Yes I do." It was his turn to ask a question, "Isobel, I know that while I've had more partners than you my experience is limited. I'm a doctor so I know the mechanics of it but...was everything...Did I?" He shook his head at his inability to voice his thoughts.

She knew what he was asking and cuddled beside him, "Perfect, it was perfect. When you took me the first time not only did it feel fantastic but it felt right, almost familiar like we had done it before."

He sighed in relief and pulled her closer to him, a thought struck her and she smiled wickedly, "I'm going to enjoy showing you things."

While her spirit was willing her body was not, she ached pleasantly and Richard's body was in need of rest as well.

The rest of the morning saw them sharing a bath together, as they washed one another they talked of their youth. Nearing the end of the bath Richard's head began to pound, not the heavy banging but still enough for his eyes to close and Isobel to notice. She calmly fetched him an aspirin and made him a cup of tea.

In the days that followed Dr. Clarkson went back to work at the hospital, Isobel continued to stay at the cottage. The staff at Crawley house knew that she was staying with the doctor to care for him. Also during this time they registered their intent to marry at the office in Ripon. He had ordered her a new wedding band from the jeweler. When the day came for them to marry it was merely the legalization of their relationship. Isobel moved her first wedding band to her right hand.

More of Isobel's things slowly moved into the cottage the servants noted her absence had stretched yet felt it was of no importance to report to anyone. So far only Dr. Tanner knew of their marriage.

He had been adding notes to Dr. Clarkson's chart after his last assessment when he noted an addendum.

**Next of kin Isobel Clarkson-wife**

From this the news began to trickle down, Isobel dispatched a letter to Lord Grantham. In it she thanked him for the use of Crawley House. However, since she was now wed to Dr. Clarkson it was not necessary for her stay there any longer. She thanked the family for their care and generosity and suggested that Tom Branson become the new tenant of Crawley House.

It didn't strike anyone as odd that they had married for most in the village considered them already a pair. The dowager countess herself sent a bouquet in congratulations to them. When the woman fell in Isobel took it upon herself to care for her. In the Dowager's bedroom, Richard discussed her diagnosis, "This was never flu, looks like bronchitis but there is a lot of flu about and my nurses as you know are run off their feet. We can't spare-"

She smiled, "I can do whatever needs to be done"

He knew this but he also knew the tenacity of the patient, "But she'll need proper supervision otherwise there's a real danger it could turn into pneumonia. We'll have to hire someone tomorrow."

She waved him off, "there's no need I can manage"

At this he felt a surge of protectiveness, "There'll be no let up!"

His concern had her blushing, "I know. What's the treatment?"

Richard sighed through his nose, "Inhalants, really. I'll bring some in the morning. The main thing is to keep her temperature down and to stop pneumonia taking hold."

He didn't want to leave her but he had other patients and he could see she was determined. He spent the night in his overnight cot, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep in their bed if she wasn't there. In the morning he could see that she was tired, however the dowager was being well cared for. He stood behind her watching her reduce the fever with wet cloths. Still he couldn't stop himself, "you should get some rest."

"I will when she's over the worst." She replied as she grabbed a wet cloth.

Richard began packing his bag, "I'll telephone the house. Tell them what's happening"

The dowager moaned then plaintively asked, "Where is everyone?"

Richard's ire was rising and he shoved his hand into a pocket so Isobel wouldn't see it had formed a fist. "Get someone to take over here."

"No, I prefer to see this through." She augmented her statement by pulling up a chair and Richard felt pride swell at his wife's action.

Mary and Cora came to see cousin Violet. Isobel assured them that she could handle it. They asked again if there was anything they could do but Isobel was resolute. Later her husband dropped by to assess the patient. The fever was still lingering, the cough had not worsened but nursing support was still needed.

"Well tonight there can be no let up. You mustn't sleep. You must not let her temperature get higher." He said and she put a hand on her hip as she understood his orders.

"I want another nurse" came the dowagers plea.

"I insist, this one talks too much...like a drunken vicar." The old woman rasped as she coughed.

At this Richard inwardly grinned, he liked it when his wife talked. The words she whispered to him in bed were his favorite. Isobel turned to Richard knowing what he was thinking and smiled. She didn't have to tell him why she was doing this, he knew.

"I'll look in later" he said softly. "Ring at the slightest change." He ordered and she nodded in acknowledgement.

When Dr. Clarkson checked on the Dowager next he was pleased to see her hungry. Isobel rose to alert the kitchen. With her gone his patient spoke, "Dr. Clarkson when you go would you please take that madwoman with you."

While he knew she was ill he couldn't let the insult to his wife go, "That "madwoman" has refused to leave your side for the last two days and nights and she has not slept nor eaten since you were taken ill."

The Dowager seemed puzzled, "But there were nurses here? I remember a nurse wiping my brow."

He clasped his hands behind his back, "She was that nurse Lady Grantham."

More confusion, "What about Cora and Mary?"

"They offered, but Mrs. Clarkson felt she had more knowledge than they." The tone of his voice has taken on the tone he used when dealing with scared children.

When Isobel returned Richard transformed back into a Doctor, "It's time you had a break."

She looked at him, "I might go home and have a bath."

His blue eyes bore into hers and she knew that he would be the one drawing that bath and she felt warmth spread through her. Clearing her throat she turned back to the woman in bed, "Shall I come back later?"

What Isobel didn't know was that behind her Richard had drew himself to his full height. His posture was commanding and his face wore a menacing expression, she would not insult his wife ever again. The dowager quickly agreed to let Isobel come back.


	9. Chapter 9

As Isobel retrieved her coat Richard could see the weariness starting to set in. She had been an unstoppable force for two days and nights, working tirelessly like a soldier, combating fever and administering inhalants. Now that the battle was essentially won the adrenaline surge was wearing off. Just the act of putting on a coat for her was tantamount to running a marathon. Reaching over he tugged up on the collar of the coat helping it settle more squarely on her shoulders. He cocked his elbow and she threaded her arm through it. Together they left the Dowager's house and walked through the village. The fresh air seemed to revive Isobel and her steps were steady.

"Sleep or bath?" He asked as opened the door of the cottage.

"Bath" she answered confidently.

He removed her coat and hung it up by his own overcoat, "Give me a moment."

Isobel went to the bedroom and saw the bed pristine with a small pillow in the center. Only she put that pillow there on the mornings that she made the bed letting her know that he had not slept in it since Cousin Violet fell ill and that knowledge made her flush. She could hear the bath filling with water and the thought of washing off two days worth of grime had her sighing in contentment. She removed her dark red blouse and skirt. As she walked towards the bathroom she could see Richard. He had removed his suit jacket and had rolled up the sleeves on his crisp white shirt. Balanced on the edge of the tub he was gently swirling the water with his left hand making sure there were no pockets of cold or hot. Leaning against the doorjamb she was struck by how this small gesture made her feel. There had been a night when he had returned from the abbey noticeably preoccupied.

_His shoulders were high a sign he was tense, "What is it?"_

_He shook his head not hoping that she wouldn't press the issue._

_It wasn't to be had, "Tell me"_

_He could deny her nothing, "Sometimes I think that I'm not good enough for you. There are things that I can't buy you or provide for you. Things I think you should have, that you deserve...damn well earned!"_

_She pushed him into the armchair and settled her hands on his shoulders trying to encourage him to relax, sometimes the Abbey did this it's imposing richness making him doubt, "Does Lord Grantham bring his wife tea in the morning? Does he place his dressing gown by the fire so it becomes warm knowing his wife will steal it? You spoil me more than fancy gowns and jewels ever could. If anything I don't deserve you."_

_Her words had him launching from the armchair. He rounded the chair in mere seconds and held her to him. Mouths met in a crash and she tried to pour all her love into the kiss. It was then she knew how to spoil him. Tearing her mouth away she gave him a wicked grin before sinking down on her knees. Richard's eyes were wide, "What, what are you doing?" She ignored him and loosened his belt before unzipping his trousers. The weight of the belt had the trousers racing down his legs. Richard was too stunned to do anything however, his traitorous body had reacted quickly to her actions. The silence was deafening until she touched him with her mouth and he swore and babbled. Isobel smiled around him and didn't rise again until he had another experience of her to add._

Her thoughts were broken when he called to her softly announcing her bath was ready. Ever the gentleman he held out his hand for her to take and helped her into the bath. The water was the temperature she liked, just shy of boiling as Richard had put it once. Methodically her hair pins were removed one by one before he finger combed her hair out before washing it for her. The gentle sounds of lathering with his fingers massaging her scalp had her relaxing. When Richard rinsed out her hair he saw that her eyelids were closing. He reached the for plug, draining the bath before towel drying Isobel and placing her into bed. After she had a few hours he would wake her knowing that she would be cross if she didn't make good on her promise to visit her patient.

He penned a quick note and left it by her pillow. He doubted that she would wake before he returned but if she did he wanted her not to worry. His instincts were proved right hours later, for when he went to wake her she was in the same position he had left her. She woke blearily and was greeted by a cup of tea. It was late afternoon, some may call it evening regardless of the title it was time for her to see Cousin Violet. Feeling refreshed after a nap and bath she dressed and went to leave. Richard kissed her at the door before admonishing, "Don't stay out too late."

A telephone call had him leaving the cottage as well, as he pedaled on his bike he passed the Dowagers house. From memory he knew which window denoted her bedroom. He was glad to see the lamps bright.


	10. Chapter 10

The dowager countess was playing cards with Isobel and was actually having fun. When Isobel announced "gin" she actually asked how long the game was. Upon reflection she regretted calling Isobel a madwoman especially in Dr. Clarkson's presence. She remembered how her own husband had defended her honor in a ballroom. If the phrase "if looks could kill" rang true the look Dr. Clarkson had given her would have seen her reaping her rewards in heaven. While she and Isobel had both lost their husbands she had not lost one of her own children. Robert and Rosamund were still alive. However, she had lost Sybil and through Mary's marriage Matthew.

Isobel had lost her world with the death of Matthew, the only silver lining was George. That was almost taken from her as well with the frightful Nanny West. As she rearranged her cards she suppressed a shudder. She would continue to goad Isobel only in the ways brought out her best qualities and she differ to the doctor instead of arguing with him.

When Isobel left it was dark, the night air swirled around her. The bright lights from the house caught the light off of something on the drive. Isobel's eyes focused trying to discern what it was. Metal, her mind supplied, the glint moved and then she recognized the sound pattern of pedals. Gravel crunched beneath her and she saw Richard making figure eights on the gravel drive of the home of Violet Crawley, Dowager Countess of Grantham.

Rocks crunched beneath her feet seeming far too loud in the night. He dismounted and began walking to her, they met facing each other one of Richard's hands steadying his bicycle. Isobel considered herself to be a mature woman, more than capable than walking herself home without an escort. However, she knew that wasn't why he was here, Richard was waiting for her because he missed her.

Striding forward she came into his personal space, close enough to feel the heat emanating from his chest. As he exhaled the breath became visible and curled around him. At that moment all she wanted was him, she grabbed the lapels of his overcoat and pulled him towards her. His arms instantly came to embrace her the bicycle clattered to the ground. Richard didn't care, besides that bike had survived worse treatment from call outs. Her hair was still fragrant having been washed hours ago, she was warm and pliant in his arms and his hands wandered like that of a teenage boy.

When Isobel had left Violet had gotten up to relieve herself in the lavatory. Before getting back into bed she peered out her window and saw Isobel move toward another individual. When the two became one solid hulking mass it didn't take a detective to figure out that the other individual was the village doctor. Perhaps this would be the one exception to her new rule that she could tease the two about? With that thought she climbed into bed with a grin on her lips.

Weeks gave way to months and soon the Post Office was preparing for lovers to handover their poetic cards and letters for Valentines day. Upon opening the doctor was first in line, he handed over the envelope paid for the postage and asked for the hold until St. Valentine's. The Postmistress took his envelope and the doctor left. As she placed it in the hold bin she noticed the envelope held a certain decoration which she recognized as a wedding anniversary card. Hours later Isobel Clarkson came in with an envelope and also gave the instructions that it be held until the fourteenth. Again the postmistress placed the card in the hold bin, knowing damn well that this was a birthday card not a Valentine. On February 14th a year prior a man had been born fully grown in the town square and on that day he had taken a wife.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you again for sticking with me until the end. May you all have a good St. Valentine's day let this be my early gift to you.**


End file.
